The Iron Grays

e twine the wreath of honorAround the warrior’s brow,Who, at his country’s altar, breathesThe life-devoting vow,And shall we to the Iron GraysThe meed of praise deny,Who freely swore, in danger’s days,For their native land to die?

For o’er our bleeding countryNe’er lowered a darker storm,Than bade them round their gallant chiefThe iron phalanx form.When first their banner waved in air,Invasion’s bands were nigh,And the battle-drum beat long and loud,And the torch of war blazed high!

Though still bright gleam their bayonets,Unstained with hostile gore,Far distant yet is England’s host,Unheard her cannon’s roar.Yet not in vain they flew to arms;It made the foeman know

That many a gallant heart must bleedEre freedom’s star be low.

Guards of a nation’s destiny!High is that nation’s claim,For not unknown your spirit proud,Nor your daring chieftain’s name.’Tis yours to shield the dearest tiesThat bind to life the heart,That mingle with the earliest breath,And with our last depart.

The angel-smile of beautyWhat heart but bounds to feel?Her fingers buckled on the belt,That sheathes your gleaming steelAnd if the soldier’s honored deathIn battle be your doom,Her tears shall bid the flowers be greenThat blossom round your tomb.

Tread on the path of duty,Band of the patriot brave,Prepared to rush, at honor’s call,“To glory or the grave.”Nor bid your flag again be furledTill proud its eagles soar,Till the battle-drum has ceased to beat,And the war-torch burns no more.